


Love at First Sound

by darkbluebox



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Musicians, Comedy, First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, Rivalry, Teen rating for language, alternate universe - buskers, alternate universe - street performers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkbluebox/pseuds/darkbluebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Iwaizumi notices a drop in his busking earnings, he quickly finds out that the genius musician on the next street is to blame.</p><p>He wouldn't mind if the guitarist in question wasn't such an insufferable ass.</p><p>Musicians AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Iwaizumi’s fingers glided up and down the neck of the guitar, plucking out a smooth and calming melody. He felt his heart slowing to beat in time with the rhythm, and he let out a long, steady breath as the music swallowed him. The passers-by melted away along with the steady hum of traffic and the sun’s beating heat. When he played, there was only the music.

 

Busking was a good way to bring in spare money, and God knew he needed it. Unfortunately, despite the thronging crowd and pleasant weather, he noticed a drop in the number of coins landing in his case with a clink.

 

It didn’t bother him _that_ much, not at first. He played, first and foremost, for his own enjoyment, and any money he earned from it was an added bonus. But as the lunchtime rush ticked by with little increase in earnings, he began to feel the beginnings of irritation. Was he not playing as well as he usually did? Or had his guitar gone out of tune in the heat without his noticing? But no. He was sure his playing was as good as ever – which, if he did say so himself, was pretty good.

 

Around mid-afternoon he decided to call it a day. There was still a pleasant warmth in the air, and he had certainly picked up enough spare change to reward himself with a strong coffee. He shouldered his guitar case, rubbing his fingers under his nose to enjoy his favourite smell, the metallic tang of guitar strings. Or perhaps it was only his second favourite, he pondered as he caught the scent of the coffee shop around the corner. It was a tough competition.

 

Iwaizumi had just rounded the corner, his mind set intently on the cup of coffee which awaited him, when it struck.

 

Lively, jumping, up and down notes that had pedestrians stopping in the street to tap their toes and snap their fingers. Music that was made for jumping to, laughing to, dancing to.

 

Jumpy music had _never_ been Iwaizumi’s type. He preferred music that was slow, soothing. If music like this came on the radio while he was in the room, that radio would be quickly turned off.

 

So why the Hell was _this_ music so…

 

He stopped dead in the street. He couldn’t help himself. Iwaizumi had never been sure about love at first sight, but if there was such a thing as love at first sound, then he had just found it.

 

His heart was unwillingly skipping in his chest and he was seized by the strongest urge to dance. But, never a dancer, he satisfied the urge by instead tapping his hand against his leg. The music was so powerful, so ensnaring, so explosive-

 

He had to find the source.

 

He followed his ears, which drank in the joyfully flowing sounds like wine, until he found the maker, who was hidden by their surrounding crowd of admirers.

 

Throwing all manners out of the window in his desperation, Iwaizumi elbowed his way to the front until he was in line with the tiny children who sat cross-legged before the musician.

 

Iwaizumi’s first thought upon seeing the one making such amazing music was-

 

What a smug asshole.

 

He sat there, guitar resting comfortably in his lap as though it were an extension of himself, long slim fingers dancing across the strings and an easy smile on his face. Unlike when Iwaizumi played, this man was completely aware of his surroundings. He smiled at the watchers, occasionally pausing to wink at an old lady, and nodding his head in thanks at the steady flow of coins that slid from hand to guitar case.

 

 _This bastard has been taking my earnings_. Iwaizumi realized with a jolt. He wasn’t surprised. After hearing music like _that,_ he wouldn’t have given his own a second look (or listen). He wouldn’t have minded if it weren’t for the insufferably smug look the man wore as he strummed away, beaming around at the crowd. Then his eyes fell on Iwaizumi.

 

His fingers slipped, causing a noise that was embarrassingly off-key. There were a few giggles. Iwaizumi failed to hold back a smirk.

 

“Sorry about that, folks.” His voice was smooth, sweet to the point of being almost sickly. “I just caught sight of the most _beautiful_ thing.” He picked up the tune again, as Iwaizumi felt his face flushing red. Then the man smirked.

 

“I’m a sucker for the sight of my own reflection.”

 

The crowd laughed, and Iwaizumi jaw clenched in irritation. That had to have been deliberate. The bastard was _teasing_ him.

 

As one song melted into the next, members of onlookers wandered off to their own affairs, yet Iwaizumi could not bring himself to do the same. Even the smell of coffee couldn’t tempt him away.

 

He was utterly ensnared by the music.

 

He wasn’t sure when he sat down, but he had done so, legs crossed like all the little kids, guitar case still slung over his shoulder. His eyes followed the pale hands as they darted gently across the instrument, not noticing the eyes that watched him in return.

 

It was only when he noticed the sun’s position from the sky that he realised that it had to be early evening. The street was far quieter now, and the smell of coffee had gone as the coffee shop fell silent. It seemed that the musician noticed how late it was at the same time as Iwaizumi. He finished on a gentle riff, before starting to pack his things away.

 

The air seemed suddenly so empty without playful strumming to fill it.

 

“You liked my playing?”

 

Iwaizumi froze under the widest smile he had seen the man give so far.

 

“Absolutely not.” The words flew to his lips. “It was the worst music I’ve ever heard.”

 

The man’s smile didn’t falter as he let out a light chuckle.

 

“You spent a long time listening to this music you claim was so awful.” He retorted.

 

“I was dumbstruck by the sheer awfulness.” Iwaizumi forced his usual half-scowl into place. He wasn’t sure what kind of game this guy was playing with him under such light-hearted pretences, but he was going to win it.

 

“Perhaps you should show me a thing or two, then.” He nodded at the guitar case still resting on Iwaizumi’s back.

 

Oh _Hell_ no. Not after the music Iwaizumi had just heard. Anything he could do would be embarrassing by comparison.

 

“Maybe another time, er…” He stalled, realising that he didn’t even know the guy’s name.

 

“Oikawa Tooru.” The man supplied. After waiting for a moment, he coughed. “Usually when someone gives you their name, it’s polite to return the favour.” He drawled, in a voice so smooth and winning that the very sound was already setting Iwaizumi’s teeth on edge.

 

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” He grunted grudgingly.

 

“Such a pretty name! But so long, too. I think I’ll call you… Iwa-chan!”

 

“I will break that guitar over your head.”

 

“Such a brute!”

 

Iwaizumi found himself smirking despite himself. Oikawa was childish, idiotic, annoying, everything that pissed him off the most and yet… the way they spoke to each other just felt so natural, like they had synchronized. It was a new feeling to Iwaizumi, odd, but not unpleasant.  

 

That didn’t mean the urge to kick the guy in the head wasn’t still there, though.

 

He climbed to his feet at last, ignoring the groans from his still legs.

 

“Will I see you again tomorrow, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s gaze was missing his usual false smile, his eyes oddly piercing.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

 

“You’re such a mystery man, Iwa-chan!”

 

“Good.” He smirked at Oikawa, his grin freezing at the sight of the other’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

Oikawa’s expression was vulnerable, a look that did not look suited to his usually confident exterior.

 

“My music… was it really awful?”

 

Iwaizumi studied Oikawa, eyes wide. He wasn’t kidding around. He had no idea. No idea how good it was.

 

Iwaizumi suddenly found that his mouth was dry. As much as Oikawa pretended otherwise, he was really insecure about his music, and Iwaizumi had no idea how to reassure him.

 

Abandoning words entirely, he walked up to where Oikawa’s guitar case still lay open, shining coins winking up at him. Making eye-contact with Oikawa and holding it, he reached his hands into his pockets, which were heavy with the day’s earnings, and pulled out two giant handfuls of change, scattering them into the case like a waterfall.

 

Oikawa’s mouth dropped open.

 

“You earned it.” Iwaizumi muttered at last, before turning and heading away in the opposite direction to hide his blush.

 

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi leave with his mouth still hanging open, feeling a strange fluttering in his stomach, the kind he got while playing a particularly good tune.

 

He really, _really_ hoped the strange man would come and watch him play again.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day was far cooler, but Iwaizumi didn’t feel the effects. He felt oddly jumpy as he played, unable for the first time in memory to keep his mind on the music. Each wrong note – of which there were more than usual – brought an irritated huff and a promise to himself to play better. The music itself had changed too – while he tried to find his usual calming beat, the notes insisted of their own accord on jumping up and down the neck of the guitar far faster than Iwaizumi was used to playing them.

 

At least the street was quieter, so there were fewer people around to see his frustration.

 

He paused at the end of the piece to take a swig from his water bottle, his eyes scanning up and down the road.

 

When his eyes fell on Oikawa Tooru, he choked in shock, spitting water out onto the pavement.

 

“Wow, Iwa-chan. For a moment there you almost looked civilized. Such a shame you had to ruin it.”

 

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi wheezed as he regained his breath. “How long have you been standing there?!”

 

Oikawa shrugged, for some reason unwilling to make eye-contact.

 

“You didn’t come to see me, so I thought I’d come and find you!”

 

“You mean _stalk_ me.”

 

“I wasn’t stalking. But if I was, I was only returning the favour.”

 

Iwaizumi spluttered in irritation as Oikawa tittered. There was a pause while Iwaizumi fiddled with his guitar’s tuning in an effort to hide his embarrassment. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he had felt shy about other people hearing him play – childhood recitals to his family sprung to mind – but there was something about Oikawa’s calculated stare, his clear expertise, which made Iwaizumi nervous. But there was no way Iwaizumi was actually intimidated by him. No chance.

 

“You’re good.” Oikawa began suddenly.

 

“What? I, uh,” Iwaizumi put a hand bashfully to the back of his neck. “Th-thanks.”

 

In retrospect he should have seen it coming.

 

Oikawa plopped himself down on the pavement before Iwaizumi, exactly mirroring his own position from the day before. He looked at Iwaizumi expectantly.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Iwa-chan!”

 

“No way.”

 

“ _Please_ , Iwa-chan!”

 

“No! And I told you not to call me that!”

 

“You listened to me play for _ages_ , you’re being _totally_ unfair-”

 

“Like I care, _Assikawa_.”

 

“I won’t leave.” Oikawa tapped his feet against the ground, a smirk creeping around his lips. “I can wait here all day.”

 

Iwaizumi huffed.

 

“ _Fine._ ”

 

It felt a little odd at first, playing under such an intense gaze. But soon Iwaizumi’s fingers warmed up and he slipped into the music with ease. It was one of his favourite songs, happy and lively at first but fading slowly into a tune that was sombre and a little haunting. He didn’t look up once, but the hairs standing up on the back of his neck told him that Oikawa’s eyes had never left him.

 

He began to hum along at the same time, softly at first but with growing confidence. He was never as certain of himself about his voice as he was about his guitar-playing, but the quietest intake of breath from Oikawa spurred him onwards. By the time he had finished, a few other people had gathered around, watching with a focus nearly equal to Oikawa’s.

 

Iwaizumi smiled a little as he acknowledged the smattering of applause, feeling a twist of nerves as his eyes met Oikawa’s.

 

Oikawa’s expression was unreadable, his folded arms resting on his knees while they supported his chin. There was something about that look that made Iwaizumi feel exposed, as though he had left the house without any clothes on.

 

_He didn’t like it_ Iwaizumi thought with what felt like a punch to the gut. _He knows I’m nowhere near his level._

 

Iwaizumi wondered for a second why he cared about this near-stranger’s opinion so much, before immediately dismissing the thought. Oikawa didn’t seem to obey the normal rules of getting to know someone.

 

There was a moment of silence, before they both spoke at once.

 

“Teach me.”

 

Iwaizumi jumped as he heard the words that had left his lips echoed back at him in the same second.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

Oikawa looked equally confused.

 

“I want you to teach me.” He repeated quietly. “To play like _that_.”

 

“But – but-” Iwaizumi stuttered. “I want _you_ to teach _me_! You’re the better player by far!”

 

Oikawa’s brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Have you – have you even _heard yourself_?”

 

Iwaizumi frowned back. This made no sense. Why would such an amazing player want help from Iwaizumi?

 

“There’s – there’s nothing I can possibly teach you, dumbass!”

 

Oikawa’s eyes widened, his expression somewhere on the boundary between intense and psychotic.

 

“There’s _everything_ you can teach me! And I want to learn it _all!”_

 

“What the Hell are you talking about?!”

 

“It’s your…your…” Words failed Oikawa as he gestured frantically with his hands. “It’s the emotion! When you play, it’s as though I can _see_ the music in the air! This natural, powerful… where did you _learn_ that?”

 

Iwaizumi frowned at him, utterly baffled.

 

“What are you…I never learned anything, I just, I play as I feel! That’s all!”

 

It was Oikawa’s turn to frown in confusion.

 

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi continued. “I… I can’t play like you can. It’s so…” He struggled for the words, flushing red. “It’s… _grabbing_. You can’t not listen. I want to play as skilfully as you.”

 

Oikawa tilted his head to one side, his eyes still on Iwaizumi but his mind far away.

 

“A deal, then. I’ll teach you what I know if you teach me in return.”

 

Iwaizumi studied the man before him, the near-stranger who didn’t feel like one.

 

How could he possibly teach Oikawa something he didn’t even understand himself?

 

But he did so want to play as Oikawa did, with that beautiful fluency that made his heart stutter. 

 

“Deal.”

 

A wicked, somewhat manic grin spread across Oikawa’s face, and Iwaizumi immediately regretted his decision.

 

“Ok! Let’s start! Tell me _everything_.” Oikawa leaned forwards in anticipation.

 

“Not right away, idiot! I need to figure out how I’m going to teach you, first.”

 

Oikawa sagged.

 

“Tomorrow.” Iwaizumi promised. “We’ll start tomorrow, okay?”

 

Oikawa brightened immediately.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He beamed, jumping to his feet.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Iwaizumi grumbled, already sensing the migraine that spending any amount of time with this guy was sure to bring on.

 

“Oh, and Iwa-chan!” Oikawa looked back over his shoulder as he turned to head away.

 

“What?”

 

“You look cute when you’re playing. All focused and intense. It’s a good job I already know how ugly you are on the inside!”

 

Iwaizumi made a sound between a growl and a shout as Oikawa dashed away, laughing. Unable to reach Oikawa’s neck, Iwaizumi instead made throttling motions at the empty air before him, causing a startled looking mother to pull her child away from him as she passed.

 

This would end in murder, Iwaizumi was sure of it. Probably involving someone getting garrotted with a guitar string.

 

He hoped the police would be understanding.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip the pair of them


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this in the middle of the night so I really hope I didn't miss anything when I was reading it over but I probably did. Sorry in advance...

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa waiting for him on the park bench. The guy didn’t seem capable of keeping his hands still. They were constantly drumming on his leg, fidgeting with his hair or twiddling in his lap. Just watching him was enough to drive Iwaizumi up the wall.

 

 As soon as Oikawa caught sight of him, he sat bolt upright, his hands coming to a standstill.

 

“Iwa-chan!”

 

“You seem surprised.” Iwaizumi frowned.

 

“Not at all, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said without hesitation.

 

“Hmm.” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, but decided not to peruse it.

 

Oikawa was on him in an instant, jabbering about styles and techniques and all sorts of technical nonsense. Iwaizumi held back a chuckle. He was _nervous_.

 

“Ok, slow down. I never learned half the things you’re talking about.” Iwaizumi interrupted at last.

 

Oikawa frowned.

 

“Why not? Didn’t your music teacher-”

 

“I taught myself.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes were wide.

 

“You figured out how to play like that _all on your own?_ ”

 

“Y-yeah.” Iwaizumi wasn’t sure where to look.

 

“Wow.” For a moment Oikawa’s expression was completely open. Iwaizumi saw amazement, envy, determination, and a kind of hunger that Iwaizumi couldn’t quite put a name to.

 

“So, yeah, there’s nothing really… _technical_ I can teach you, I guess. But I think I understood what you meant yesterday. You want to make the music reflect yourself.”

 

Oikawa nodded vigorously.

 

“And for you it’s the opposite.” He replied. “You have the emotion. You just need the technical stuff.”  

 

Iwaizume smiled.

 

“Yours is easier to teach.”

 

“But yours is easier to learn.” Oikawa sighed, letting worry flicker across his face for less than a second before replacing it with the usual smile.

 

“You’ll manage it.” Iwaizumi felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards, and felt a flutter in his stomach when he saw Oikawa’s expression do the same.

 

They spent a good part of their morning swapping between teaching and learning. Oikawa was a good teacher; within the first few minutes he had corrected Iwaizumi’s hand position, instantly granting him far more freedom to reach from note to note. Iwaizumi, while not particularly articulate at the best of times, did his best to explain to Oikawa how he used different sounds to express himself.

 

“The most important part is to know what you’re trying to say.” He began as he handed his guitar to Oikawa. “It’s like any art form. Writers, poets, musicians, they all have thoughts and feelings they want to share.”

 

“I never had you down as such a romantic, Iwa-chan!”

 

“Shut up, Shittykawa.”

 

Oikawa’s attention had turned back to Iwaizumi’s guitar. He slid his fingers across the strings without making a sound.

 

“What if I don’t know what I want to say?” He asked quietly without looking up.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes didn’t move from Oikawa.

 

“Everything has something they want to say. You just have to figure out what.”

 

Oikawa plucked a string.

 

“So what’s a musical way of saying “Damn, that booty”?”

 

“Sorry. Guitars don’t speak idiot.”

 

Oikawa pouted.

 

“What do you normally think about when you’re playing?” Iwaizumi tried a different tactic.

 

“Oh, all sorts of things. What I’m going to have for lunch, how pretty I probably look with my guitar, cute passers-by, that kind of thing.”

 

“Right.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “That would explain a lot then. You’re not going to put your heart into your playing if you’re not giving it your full attention.”

 

Oikawa sighed.

 

“But focusing for that long is so tiring!” He paused, his expression changing to one of ominous curiosity. “What do _you_ think about, Iwa-chan?”

 

“Oh, uh…” Iwaizumi was stumped. “My mind kind of… blanks out.”

 

“That must be so easy for you, what with your empty head and all!”

 

Iwaizumi clipped Oikawa around the back of the head, making him squeal in indignation.

 

“Anyway, I don’t think of anything specific at all.” Iwaizumi continued over Oikawa’s complaining. “Just… the feelings really. What the music makes me feel.” Iwaizumi blushed. He had never been good at talking about mushy feelingsy stuff. That was why he played guitar – it was far easier to get an instrument to speak for him.

 

To his surprise, Oikawa didn’t laugh at him, but instead nodded with a face of utter seriousness.

 

“That’s what I’m not good at. The feelings.” His eyes met Iwaizumi’s for less than a second before returning to the guitar.

 

“Try playing your favourite song.” Iwaizumi said suddenly. “Do it now. And empty your head as you do it.”

 

Oikawa pursed his lips, before nodding. The guitar sprang to life in his hands, Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as Oikawa’s hand jumped from one end of the guitar’s neck to the other, with an accuracy that was terrifying. The tune was lively, and nice enough; but Iwaizumi sensed that it was only Oikawa’s favourite because it was clearly so difficult to play.

 

When Oikawa finished, his face twisted up as his grip tightened on the guitar.

 

“It’s just _noise_ , Iwa-chan. Tuneful noise, but still, just noise.”

 

 Iwaizumi nodded thoughtfully.

 

“Don’t worry.” He said at last. “You _will_ get it. You just need to…” He trailed off.

 

“Connect to it?”

 

“Yeah. That’s it.” Iwaizumi smiled. “Are you nearly ready to swap again? I want to know how you did that bit in the middle – plucking with your left hand.”

 

Oikawa was happy to oblige, and Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if it was the new techniques or the man teaching to him that made him feel so wonderfully light.

 

Nevertheless, while Iwaizumi made progress quickly, Oikawa seemed to feel more and more frustrated with each attempt. As the day drew to an end, Oikawa’s last attempt was brought to a stop as Oikawa cut himself off half-way through a song, clenching his fists in his hair with a shout of irritation.

 

“Hey, watch!” Iwaizumi shouted, catching the guitar just before it tipped out of Oikawa’s lap and onto the ground.

 

“It’s _useless_.” Oikawa jumped to his feet, leaving Iwaizumi to hold the abandoned guitar. Iwaizumi could feel his blood pressure rising.

 

“Don’t be an idiot.” He replied through clenched teeth. “You’re only just starting. You can’t expect to get everything right away.”

 

“But I’m _not_ just starting, am I?” He whipped around, wearing the face of a child about to throw a tantrum. “I’ve been learning guitar for years, from my music teacher, from tutors – from experts! And yet you’ve managed to master it with no instruction.”

 

Iwaizumi watched him, unimpressed.

 

“So if I haven’t mastered it by now – it must be because it isn’t a skill but a _talent_. One you can’t learn.” Oikawa continued dramatically. “Which means that this is all hopeless. I won’t ever be able to express myself the way you do, Iwa-chan. Sorry for wasting your time.”

 

Before Iwaizumi could get a word in edgeways, Oikawa turned on his heel and bolted, leaving Iwaizumi sitting on the bench in stunned silence.

 

He just didn't know what to make of Oikawa Tooru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*


	4. Chapter 4

Iwaizumi wasn’t particularly surprised to find Oikawa strumming away in his usual spot the next day. He strode towards him, a hot drink in each hand. When Oikawa saw him approaching, his eyes flashed with surprise, which he quickly crushed under a scowl.

 

“What do you want?” He grumbled without stopping playing. The notes were too loud, too harsh, and unpleasant on the ear.

 

Iwaizumi ignored him, walking on by before dropping down behind him. He shuffled backwards a little until their backs were rubbing together, noticing a slight stutter in the music as he did so.

 

“Have a hot chocolate.” Iwaizumi set one of the cups on the ground beside him.

 

“Hot chocolate? That’s for _babies_.”

 

“I would have gotten you a coffee, but somehow I think that you and caffeine is a mix that should never happen.”

 

“So mean, Iwa-chan.”

 

Iwaizumi held his own coffee up to his face, breathing in deeply before letting out a content sigh.

 

“Is this coffee really bitter, or is it just you?”

 

Oikawa elbowed him from behind, and received an elbow in return, causing his music to stutter once again.

 

“I’m not bitter.” Oikawa said as he forced down a giggle.

 

Iwaizumi made a noise of agreement.

 

“That’s right. You’re just a quitter, apparently.”

 

At the sound of his words Oikawa jerked forwards and up onto his feet, abandoning playing completely.

 

“I am _not_ a quitter!”

 

“Are so.”

 

“Am not!”

 

Their argument began to attract a few odd looks from strangers.

 

“You gave up after _one day_. Quitt-er.” Iwaizumi made a point of dragging out the last syllable.

 

Oikawa’s face seemed to be doing an excellent impression of a storm-cloud.

 

“Fine then.” He said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I _don’t_ give up.” He returned to his seat on the pavement, his back pressing up pointedly against Iwaizumi’s. “Go on. Teach me.”

 

Iwaizumi smirked smugly, glad that Oikawa couldn’t see his face.

 

“Okay. Let’s play.”

 

For a while Oikawa simply played while Iwaizumi listened. Even when he couldn’t see the long slim fingers making their magic, he was still amazed by the years of practice and expertise that clearly went into each song.

 

“Do you still feel frustrated?” Iwaizumi asked after a while.

 

“Yes.” Oikawa grunted.

 

“Good.” Iwaizumi reached for his guitar case.

 

Oikawa’s music fell silent as Iwaizumi tuned his guitar.

 

“So you’re frustrated. You’re angry. You feel kinda like…” Iwaizumi trailed off, replacing his voice with a low, throbbing riff.

 

He felt Oikawa stiffen behind him. After a moment, he repeated the notes back at Iwaizumi with his own guitar.

 

Iwaizumi played the notes again, this time finishing with a loud strum. Oikawa copied. They continued on for a while in their call-and-repeat pattern, until Oikawa at last spun around, leaning his chin on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

 

For a moment Iwaizumi wrestled with the impulse to simply shrug him off, before deciding that, actually, he quite liked the feeling. Not that he was going to tell Oikawa that, of course.

 

“Iwa-chaaaaaaaaaaan.” Oikawa drawled.

 

“What’s wrong? I thought you were getting it.”

 

“I was, that’s the problem!”

 

Iwaizumi turned around, flicking Oikawa on the forehead.

 

“Hey, what was that for?!” Oikawa yelped.

 

“You complain when you don’t get it, you complain when you do! Are you never happy?!”

 

Oikawa huffed.

 

“The problem is that I don’t feel frustrated any more!”

 

“Ah.” That made sense, actually. “So what _do_ you feel?”

 

Oikawa’s ears suddenly went pink, and his eyes refused to meet Iwaizumi’s.

 

“Ah, I don’t know! Nothing, nothing at all…” Oikawa chattered. Iwaizumi reached out to grab him by the hair, forcing their eyes to meet.

 

“Don’t bullshit me.” He growled.

 

Oikawa’s ears went even pinker.

 

“I feel…I feel…” Oikawaa bit his lip in frustration. “I feel kinda like…”

 

Iwaizumi recognized Oikawa’s expression. It was one he himself used often. It was one that said “I really want to say something, but I have no way of saying it”.

 

 “I feel like…” Oikawa went quiet for a moment. Iwaizumi opened his mouth, about to speak, but when Oikawa started playing the words dried up in his throat.

 

The music was light and fast, up and down scales with a tune full of twists and turns. It made Iwaizumi think of walking along a tightrope, or taking an exam, or going somewhere he had never been before.

 

“You’re nervous?”

 

Oikawa nodded bashfully.

 

“Why would you be nervous?”

 

The music became lighter still, but warmer, more major chords, making Iwaizumi feel as though he had butterflies in his stomach. It was a feeling he recognized, but not one he could put a name to.

 

“I think I know that feeling.” Iwaizumi felt a pair of eyes upon him, and when he looked up he found that Oikawa was watching him with a steady gaze. Iwaizumi felt blood rush to his face, yet was quite unable to explain why. Instead he began to echo Oikawa’s tune on his own guitar, creating smooth counter-melodies that intertwined with Oikawa’s music, both enriching and deepening an already-beautiful song.

 

He was so caught up in the rhythm and in Oikawa’s eyes that he didn’t notice the small crowd of onlookers that was beginning to form around them, nor the awe-struck whispers.

 

They played for what felt like an eternity, passing the melody from one to the other as though they were playing a game of catch. It was a sweet song, not the kind Iwaizumi was used to playing but one that warmed him to the bone nonetheless.  

 

When they finished, nether noticed the applause, nor the showering of coins they received.

 

“That was…” Iwaizumi swallowed.

 

“Amazing.” Oikawa’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Let’s do it again!”

 

“What?! We’ve only just finished! You’ll get blisters on your fingers, dumbass!”

 

Oikawa only laughed.

 

“Worth it, though.”

 

Iwaizumi leaned forwards to clip him around the ear, but Oikawa caught Iwaizumi’s hand in his own before he could, still giggling.

 

Suddenly the emotion Oikawa had been trying to explain to him clicked in Iwaizumi’s mind and everything fell into place.

 

He smiled nervously at Oikawa, noticing that their hands were still clasped together.

 

“Oikawa.”

 

“Yes, Iwa-chan?”

 

“Do you want to go and get a hot chocolate together?”

 

Oikawa beamed. Leaning forwards, he pecked Iwaizumi’s cheek before jumping to his feet with a grin.

 

“Last one to the coffee shop’s a loser!”

 

Oh no. There was no way he was getting away with that.

 

Pedestrians on the town’s main street that day were both confused and entertained by the sight of two young men sprinting down the road, one laughing airily and the other hollering his lungs out in hot pursuit.

 

“Get back here, asshole! That was a false start! CHEAT! CHEAT!”

 

“Catch me if you can, Iwa-chan!”

 

Their shouts and laughter echoed upwards into the cloudless sky like music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and as always please tell me what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> My first Iwaoi fic, I hope I have done their characters justice.  
> Thank you for reading, feedback is always appreciated!


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